Oh So Quiet
by MrsMCrieff
Summary: Post season 4, Sherlock has moved back into a recently renovated Baker Street but the quiet isn't what he hoped it would be. Rated for smut. A Sherlolly fic.
1. Chapter 1

**This was inspired by me having my first day alone in my house in weeks. I've been called on jury service on a long term case (6-8 weeks) and whilst I'm loving all the detail and seeing it first-hand it's taking up all my time including the time I'd normally spend writing...hence my absence.**

 **Anyway, the other day they didn't need us so I thought that rather than carrying on with one of my long fics I'd do a short one for you guys to prove I'm still here. I was sat in my perfectly quiet house (which is bliss) and it got me thinking about Sherlock craving quiet and then finishing it stressful. So here you go, I hope you like it.**

 **Chapter 1**

It was perfectly quiet and peaceful in Baker St for the first time in what felt like months; Sherlock sat back in his chair, placed his hands in a prayer position under his chin and he exhaled, taking in the pure, exquisite stillness.

After Eurus had blown the place up and all that business at Sherrinford he'd stayed with John initially whilst the worst of the clear up had taken place. The house had been cramped with him sleeping on the settee in the front room and Rosie was still unsettled at night, waking frequently disturbing everyone's sleep, and then endlessly playful during daylight hours. The constant noise and smells had driven him from the house during the day and he had sought shelter at Scotland Yard trying to fill his time with cases so he didn't have to think about everything he had learnt over the previous weeks.

A couple of times he had gone to the Diogenes club to meet Mycroft hoping that the silence there would sooth his battered psyche but all he got was earache and nagging from his brother.

 _Have you spoken to Mother? When will you next see Eurus? Did you go through my plans for enhanced security? Father says you should see a therapist. Have you seen a therapist? What about Molly Hooper?_

He shook his head slightly trying to shake off the irritation he felt at remembering the questions that he hadn't wanted to answer. On the whole they were the same ones he seemed to get from John and Mrs Hudson and Lestrade all laced in with the additional refrain of _how are you feeling?_

He stood up, feeling restless, and looked around his empty flat. Maybe what he needed was an activity.

He spent twenty minutes opening up brand new sealed boxes and carefully unwrapping the scientific equipment that lay within. He bit his lip and then grinned as he placed his brand new microscope on the kitchen table; a table that was still untarnished and free from bloodstains and burn marks unlike the old one.

He sat down on the chair and squirmed a little in the seat trying to decide if he liked it or nor; he'd never been good with change in his personal life. He shrugged to himself, it was OK. Then he spent some more time fiddling with the dials, pulling out a strand of his own hair and sliding it between the glass plates and then under the scope so he could check the view.

Finally he sat back and huffed. He knew without checking that there were no body parts in the new fridge; nothing for him to play with and occupy his time.

He stood up again and placed his hands on his hips as he stared around the flat and he couldn't get away from the feeling of dissatisfaction that settled over him.

Frowning he wandered over to his bookcase. Maybe there was a book he could read to while away the time. After all this was what he'd been looking forward to; time alone, time with his own thoughts and nothing to distract him.

His fingers drifted over the spines of the books until it rested on one of the few books to have survived the explosion. It was an antique book from the early days of Victorian forensic science. Molly had bought it for him and he remembered feeling a sense of elation when he had plucked it from the ashes and, bar a bit of singeing on the pages, realised that it had survived. It seemed to echo with his own sense of survival against the odds; survival when he hasn't really deserved it or even, at times, desired it.

With that thought he was brought right back to that horrific moment when Culverton Smith had been about to kill him and his sudden epiphany that he didn't want to die. He had always told himself he didn't care but in that one moment he had realised that it was just an illusion. He did want to live, he did want to survive. There was still so much that he hadn't done, roads left unexplored that he now knew he needed...he wanted to travel down.

It hadn't been the only illusion he'd been living with. Everything about his childhood and who he thought he was had been an illusion.

He let out an irritated grunt. He had been looking forward to peace and quiet, to solitude; his own space and now he had it he didn't like it. Thinking was just making him comprehend how fucked up his life was and how alone he felt. There were no more excuses left, now was the time for him to act and yet he didn't know how to.

It was at that exact moment that the doorbell rang. Normally he'd move to the window and look down on the visitor so he could decide whether he wanted to admit them or not; or he'd watch from above whilst he waited for Mrs Hudson to let them in and vet them for him.

But the relief of having something to distract him had him moving to the stairs with alacrity.

He took them two at a time; his mother's childhood warning that he'd fall and hurt himself echoing in his mind. Then he flung open the door and stopped dead.

There, in front of him, stood Molly Hooper and he felt all the air leave his body in an instant and his heart thumped uncomfortably in his chest.

It was by no means the first time that he had seen Molly since his sister had forced him to make "that phone call". He had sent John to explain the circumstances behind it, somehow not confident that he could manage it himself, and since then he had only seen her at Barts. Initially it had been a bit awkward and uncomfortable but they'd soon settled back into their friendship. He knew that he had been avoiding her to some extent but he'd had so much else going on that he had pushed the issue of Molly Hooper to the back of the queue. He had only gone to Barts when a case had forced him...not like he had in the past for some company and the use of the equipment. Barts had always been a place of sanctuary for him and he missed it, he missed Molly. That thought made him frown...if he found being there so soothing why had he not been over the last few weeks when peace had been what he'd sought?

'Hey, Sherlock? Are you going to let me in or just stand there?'

He blinked and realised with a jolt that he had just been staring at her. She was smiling but looking a little nervous. As ever she was wearing some hideous combination of blouse and jumper neither of which matched her trousers and all of which clashed with the scarf wound around her neck. It was late autumn now and the days were chillier. He shivered as he stood back to let her in but couldn't quite decide if it was the cold air or something else which had caused it.

He closed the door behind her but made no move to go up to his flat and she smiled shyly before holding up the cool box that she'd been carrying.

'Sorry, I'm probably interrupting but I heard from John that you'd moved back into your flat and I figured you'd be wanting to start up your experiments again. I brought you a liver, 50 year old male prone to drinking and overeating but died in a car accident, plus a set of eyes...same guy, he didn't seem to need them anymore.' She chuckled briefly at her own joke but it dried up when he didn't join in.

When Sherlock still didn't say anything he saw start to chew on her bottom lip, frown lines marring her forehead, before adding. 'Umm, do you want them?'

'Yes, yes of course. Thank you Molly...come up.'

Again he took the stairs two at a time; he seemed to be brimming over with energy. Was it provident that just as he was thinking of her she was here? Maybe it was a sign.

He frowned and huffed at his own ridiculous sentimentality. There were no such things as signs just the need for humans to see patterns in amongst the chaos...and he prided himself on understanding the chaos.

Molly put the cool box down on the settee and unconsciously unwound her scarf from her neck as she looked around.

'Wow, they've done a good job. You wouldn't know there'd been an explosion...not that I saw it as such but John had photo's on his phone. You must be glad to be back in.'

Sherlock couldn't help but be curious about the body parts and he picked up the cool box and carried it over to the kitchen table. 'Yes, John was good to put me up but it was...umm...'

He trailed off not wanting to insult his friend but Molly giggled. 'Don't worry, I know what you mean. Living with a baby isn't easy.'

The smile lit up her face just like it always had and he found himself smiling in return not wanting to look away.

She wandered over, the smile dropping away as she looked at him. 'Are you OK Sherlock? You seem distracted. Am I in your way?'

'No, not at all. You're just the person I wanted to see.'

He saw her eyebrows lift in shock. 'Really.'

'Yes, really...I...' For the first time in his life he found himself lost for words. His brain scrambled to try and find something but Molly was walking closer to him and not for the first time he found himself physically reacting to her. It WAS the first time however that he found he didn't want to hide it or suppress it.

She had that concerned look back on her face, the one that told him she was wondering if he was high or something similar and he knew he needed to say something; to try to make her understand what he was feeling, but he barely understood it himself.

'I...I'm sorry I sent John round to talk to you.'

Her confusion just seemed to increase. 'John? What are you talking about?'

'After the call. I sent John when I should have come round myself.'

He didn't need to expand further; they both knew exactly which call he was referring to. She smiled with relief. 'Oh that. Don't worry about it. You had a lot on and John explained it all. I...well, I understood and I never said it but I'm grateful. You thought I was in danger and you wanted to save me.' She came even closer and he could smell the lemon of her body wash and the honey from her shampoo. Tentatively she placed her hand over his where it lay on the forgotten cool box. 'Thank you for that, Sherlock, for caring enough to want to save me.'

The way she said it, the tone of sadness in her voice had him twisting his hand under hers until their fingers were laced together. He saw her glance at their hands, now connected, and then her eyes moved back to his face and he saw a flicker of something there...something beyond the confusion.

His voice was low, barely above a whisper. 'Of course I care Molly. I've always cared. If anything happened to you...'

He had to break off as an image of Mary came into his mind. She was lying in John's arms and the noise of utter grief that he let out had pierced him to the core...making real what he had hoped was just a dream. Except in his mind's eye it was Molly dying and him grieving.

She made to pull her hand away. 'I know you care Sherlock...I do...but I...'

She frowned as his grip tightened rather than releasing.

'No Molly, you don't understand. I mean I care about you.' And then slowly he bent his head to hers and kissed her.

 **It's not quite finished but I think it will be three chapters in total. Hope you enjoy the start and I'll be back mid-week with the next instalment. Let me know if you've missed me, because I've missed all of you xx**


	2. Chapter 2

**So one of my reviewers asked Molly to make Sherlock work for it but as this was meant to be a short fic she gives in far too quickly** **. I'm ever hopeful that you aren't complaining though. Which reminds me thank you all for your reviews xx**

 **Chapter 2**

Molly had gone to Sherlock's house that day with the express intention of dropping him off some body parts and then doing some food shopping before heading home and curling up in front of the TV with Toby. What she hadn't expected to do was to be kissing Sherlock in his kitchen but kissing him...or more correctly him kissing her, was exactly what was happening.

One minute he had been talking about "that call", the one she had locked away in the corner of her mind, worried that she would wear the memory out with overuse. And the next minute they were kissing and she wasn't quite sure how one had led to the other or why. And now his mouth was moving against her own and her brain just didn't seem to be working properly. Her thoughts kept scattering with every deliciously seductive movement of his lips.

He still had his fingers twisted through hers but his other hand had moved around her waist pulling her closer to him and she could feel her body lightly pressing against his. Her spare hand had ended up on his chest, just falling there by accident and she could feel the heat of him through his shirt. He was wearing the dark blue one, the one he'd worn when he'd been high and she'd gone to John's therapists house to collect him.

She remembered that day so clearly; his hands shaking so badly as he'd tried to undo the buttons so she could use her stethoscope to exam his lungs and heart that she had had to help him. At the time she remembered berating herself for the spike of lust she had felt at helping him to undress. She'd had to remind herself that she was just there professionally...nothing more, but the lust had soon dissipated, replaced by her stomach churning concern for his health once her examination had been complete.

His lips were softer than she had imagined and he tasted of coffee. Somehow his hand had moved under her jumper and was pulling at her shirt and she wondered if she'd become stuck in a hyper-real dream. Because this couldn't really be happening could it? She couldn't actually be kissing Sherlock in his kitchen.

It was only as his lips moved to her neck and she opened her eyes, staring up at the ceiling that the reality of her situation hit her and she found herself pushing Sherlock away, regretting it almost as soon as his lips left her skin but knowing she needed some sort of explanation.

It didn't help that when he looked at her his eyes were dilated with lust and his hands hadn't left her body.

She untangled his hand from hers and placed it against his chest next to her other hand pushing him away just enough so she could catch her breath without breathing in his scent. She needed to try to clear her head, to think.

'Wait, what was that Sherlock?'

His lips, his gorgeous full and now kiss-red lips curled into a lazy smile. 'I would have thought that was obvious Molly. It was a kiss.'

'I know that, I mean why...why did you kiss me? Are you high? Have you taken something?'

She looked closer at him trying to pick up any tell-tale signs but there didn't seem to be any.

He shook his head. 'No, I've just come to a realisation, that's all.'

She could feel her heart thundering in her chest at his words. She knew what she wanted him to mean but she didn't want to get her hopes up. She had never actually believed, after those first few months of knowing him, that he would ever actually return her feelings...or anyone else's for that matter.

'Wh..what realisation?' Her voice sounded odd even to her own ears. It was as though she was listening to their conversation from a long way away.

'The realisation Molly that I meant what I said in that phone call. The realisation that I don't want to be alone anymore, that I don't want to repress anything else in my life and that includes how I feel about you.'

His gaze felt as though it was stripping her down to her very soul. Her mouth moved to form words but she couldn't find anything to say. All she could do was act and so she did, she bunched the fabric of his shirt in her hands and she pulled him back to her for another kiss and this time she let herself just enjoy it. She still wasn't quite convinced that Sherlock meant what he said but she knew how she felt...how she had always felt and she was going to take this chance with both hands.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

Kissing Molly was so much better than Sherlock had ever imagined. He had expected more protest from her, more demands that he explain himself or that they take it slow but as ever his brilliant, gorgeous Molly subverted his expectations.

She had pulled him to her for another kiss and even as their lips had met her hands had snaked around his back and were already pulling his shirt from his trousers. The feel of her hands on his skin sent blood pulsing straight to his groin in a way he just hadn't been expecting...not that he had really known what to expect. When he had kissed her initially he had just been acting on instinct, he hadn't really thought ahead as to what he would want from her but now he was here he was happy to follow her lead.

Her hands were greedy, moving over his skin exploring his back before moving to his front and starting to undo the buttons of his shirt. He found himself helping her, eager to be rid of any barrier between them and his shirt was by far the easiest to remove. Molly meanwhile was clad in layers and she didn't seem to be in any rush to help him remove them. Instead when his shirt was pushed from his shoulders and he was trying to undo his cuffs her mouth moved down his neck and onto his chest and the feel of her mouth sucking on his sensitive nipples had him groaning out loud.

He wasn't sure if he staggered or if she pushed him but he ended up half sitting on the kitchen table with Molly between his thighs and her hands were already reaching for the fastenings on his trousers.

He managed to at least rid her of her coat and he pulled the hem of her jumper forcing her to release her hold on his trousers so he could drag it over her head and when he threw it to one side he turned back to find her blushing and smiling shyly, looking almost embarrassed.

She could barely look his in the eye as she spoke. 'I'm sorry, am I pushing things to fast?'

He couldn't help but return her smile, understanding her concern but wanting to dispel it and so he cupped her face with his hands, acutely aware in that moment of how small and delicate she felt. He had an overwhelming desire to protect her and make her his but he would only do it at her pace.

'We can go at whatever speed you want to go at. I know I'm no catch but I want to be with you if you'll have me; I'm in this for the long haul...no matter what.'

This time when he kissed her it felt slower, more intense. There was less rush and more passion. When she moaned into his mouth he knew without a doubt that he wanted her in his bed. He wanted to make her his and unless she said otherwise he didn't want to wait. He pushed himself away from the kitchen table that he'd been perched on, still kissing her, and then he picked her up bridal style. She pulled away for a second letting out a small cry of surprise but as he carried her towards his bedroom she just grinned before wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing her lips against his once more.

Sherlock felt as though he would never tire of kissing her. He'd thought it would be like the times he'd kissed people before but it was completely different. It wasn't just two mouth meeting; it felt as though his whole body was involved. His brain couldn't seem to focus on anything but her and all his blood seemed to be heading south. He had struggled to show any physical reaction to Janine in order to keep up his pretense with her but with Molly...god, he had never felt so hard. His trousers felt tight and uncomfortable and he couldn't wait to be rid of them.

He put Molly down on the edge of his bed and she lay back pulling him with her until he was lying on top of her and he couldn't help the way his hips rocked against hers making her part her legs so he could settle between them. Her hands were back on the skin of his back sliding down until they slipped under the waist band of his trousers, her fingers skirting just above his backside as she pulled him against her. The moan she let out told him she was getting as turned on as he was and he just wanted to feel her naked body under his.

He pushed away from her and knelt between her legs so he could use both hands to unbutton her blouse but before he could fully remove it she stilled his hands.

'Wait...I just...I need to know something before we go on.'

He cocked his head to one side waiting for her to continue. Within a couple of seconds he had taken in every detail of her appearance; the flush of arousal on her face, her reddened lips, her hair starting to come loose from her pony tail...strands of it falling around her face. He could even see her accelerated pulse beating in her slim neck.

'Are you...I mean, have you ever...'

The blush on her face deepened as she trailed off and he suddenly understood what she was asking him.

'Am I a virgin? No, I'm not but it has been a while...years in fact. I thought I could live without sex and I could...I can...but I don't want to with you...'

As he spoke his tone became lower and he finally pulled her top from her; then his hands went to the fastenings of her trousers as he continued speaking.

'I want to strip you naked, I want to kiss every part of you, I want to taste you and I want to fuck you.'

He saw her intake of breath and how her blush spread down her chest at him using such a crude term and he let his lips quirk up into a knowing smile...she liked him talking like that...it turned her on; good.

She helped him remove her trousers, shoes and socks and then she watched as he took his own off. What he hadn't expected however was her sitting up and letting her hand cup him through his shorts as he stood in front of her; and when he looked down he saw her licking her lips as she removed his erection from the restrictive material. The sensations caused by her holding his cock almost overwhelmed him. He had thought he knew what having sex would be like, he had thought he had clear memories of it but he hadn't at all. All he could do was watch in awe as she moved her mouth towards him.

 **Aaannndd we'll stop there, at least for now. I suppose I had better get on and write the final chapter hadn't I…hmm, not often I ask this but any requests?**


	3. Chapter 3

**So, let's see. By way of requests I had talking dirty, oral sex, unprotected sex and Molly riding Sherlock. I think I more or less managed them but I'll let you be the judge. Enjoy!**

 **Chapter 3**

As he watched Molly Hooper take his cock into her beautiful mouth Sherlock tried to divert his thoughts, he tried to control his physical reactions to what was happening but it was to no avail. His normally focused mind felt as though it had abandoned him and he couldn't string one coherent thought together other than how good she was making him feel.

Unbidden he let out a feral growl as her teeth scraped down the length of his erection and he felt his balls tightening and his hips starting to rock towards her as he struggled to stave off his orgasm...and he was torn, he really was. He wanted to make their first time together the right experience for both of them but the base animal in him just wanted to fuck her mouth to his own completion.

It was that last thought that had him pulling away from her; biting his lip at the feel of the cold air on his cock compared to the warmth of her mouth. Her hands were still on his hips and he sensed her looking up at him but he just needed a moment. Even without her mouth he was still close to coming.

'God...Molly, I just...that was too much...'

She started to stand, already apologising and looking around for her clothes and he caught her by the shoulders.

'No, not too much emotionally...too much physically.' He let his hands slide up to tangle in her hair as he caught her shy gaze and held it. 'I don't want to come in your mouth, not this time at least.' He quirked his lips into a smile and felt his chest bloom with warmth when she returned it.

'Kiss me Molly.'

Her hands curled up around his back and his shoulders and she pressed herself against him as they kissed. Her tongue sliding against his own eliciting another groan from him as he felt the full length of her pressed against him; the buds of her breasts hard against his chest and his cock sliding ineffectually against her stomach.

He moved her back onto the bed and let himself enjoy the simple feel of her skin against his own, her slight body underneath his bigger one. He felt an almost animalistic possessiveness of her, one that he hadn't really encountered before; she was his and he needed to claim her, to join with her.

There was only one thing spoiling the moment and that was that they still had some clothes on and so he stood back up briefly and removed his trousers and shorts enjoying the way Molly was watching him; her eyes raking up and down his now naked body trying to take everything in.

She meanwhile was still wearing a pair of mismatched bra and knickers that were so very Molly. A sexy gold bra with a lace trim paired with sensible cotton black knickers. He had grown up in a straight laced family where everything was well cut, expensive, matching and he loved just how free she was with what she wore...she dressed for comfort, practicality and fun. The opposite of himself and for that matter Irene, who had been more like his mirror image, a feminine version of himself...cold, hard, calculating.

He saw her starting to blush as she realised it was now she under focus and he loved the way it didn't just affect her face but spread across her chest. As he got back onto his bed and crawled back up her body he heard her slight intake of breath and the way her eyes dilated fractionally more. But it was his turn now. He wanted to kiss every inch of her, explore every curve and valley, and most of all he wanted to taste her.

As he slowly removed her bra he told her what he wanted to do to her, keeping his pitch low...just the way he knew she liked it and he loved her reaction even to his voice and his words. He'd never talked dirty before but he did now because she liked it...his Molly, because that's who she was now...his.

'I want to feel your breasts against my palms, against my tongue. I want to taste you...drink you. I want to feel you coming on my face as I fuck you with my tongue and fingers. Then I'm going to slide myself inside you Molly. I want to feel how tight and wet you are. I want your body under mine as I fuck you...or better still riding me; watching your breasts bouncing with the effort as you come again knowing that it's me that you're fucking...that's giving you pleasure. Then I'm going to come inside you, my seed mixing with yours and someday Molly I'm going to make you pregnant with my child. I'm going to see our child growing inside you.'

As he spoke he slid her damp knickers down her legs already seeing her wetness glistening in the curls at the apex of her thighs and his mouth watered in anticipation...but he was in no rush.

As he leant back over her they kissed once more and he could feel his cock nudging at her entrance. She spread her legs wider for him, her knees coming up to cradle his hips but he meant what he had just said and so even though he was tempted to just bury himself inside her he restricted himself. Instead he just teased them both by rocking his hips against hers in a simulation of what was to come.

By now she was almost mewling with need, squirming her body under his and pressing herself up against him seeking out some satisfaction and it made him smile; he was going to enjoy this.

Slowly he moved down her body, taking his time as he kissed his way down her neck, sucking in the skin on one side until he'd left his mark. He was going to enjoy seeing his brand on her as she worked in the morgue at Barts tomorrow.

Finally he reached her perfect breasts, fondling them with his hands before sucking the nipple of one into his eager mouth. He closed his eyes and let the sensation wash over him. He felt her harden against his tongue; her nails scraping deliciously against his scalp as his cock twitched with need; heard her gentle moans helping him to assess what actions caused them as he learnt her body.

He switched to the other side as his right hand moved down over the soft skin of her stomach until he reached her quim. He couldn't wait to use his mouth on her but he wanted her to be ready first.

As his finger slid over her clit she bucked up against him and tightened her hold of his curls. The feeling was a blend of pain and pleasure and sent another bolt of blood into his cock and he wondered how he could possibly get harder than he already was. He had never wanted anyone the way he wanted Molly in this moment. She was a drug and he was her addict chasing that first, blissful high.

She was so ready for him that his finger slid into her easily and she felt so damn tight and warm that he had to take a breath to control his own body. He found he desperately wanted to make this experience good for her...he was determined.

Her body arched up towards him and he noticed her breathing was more ragged and he knew she was close to climaxing. He withdrew his finger and sat up a little, moving away from her body and she watched through half open eyes as he slowly licked his finger clean of her juices. She tasted better than he had imagined and he moved down her body eagerly even as she protested that he didn't have to do this.

He frowned and looked up at her concerned face and in that moment he deduced that previous lovers had made her feel uncomfortable about this... _idiots._

'Oh no...you're not depriving me of this pleasure Molly...and believe me when I say that feeling you come on my tongue, letting me drink from you...that will be my enjoyment. Now just lie back and relax...let me do the work for once, I owe you.'

He saw her bite her lip and her hands gripped at the expensive cotton sheet on his bed and she had never looked more beautiful to him. Her hair was splayed out around her head, her nipples were dark pink and erect from his ministrations and he could see her thighs quivering in anticipation at what he was about to do...she was glorious and she was all his.

He made himself comfortable and then nipped and kissed at her thighs until he felt her hands tangling in his hair as her need overtook her embarrassment. He resisted for a minute but he was teasing himself as much as her and he didn't want to wait any longer.

The moan she let out as he let his tongue circle her clit was one he knew he would never forget...it would be emblazoned on his mind until the day he died. It made his hands tighten on her hips and his cock pulse and he titled his hips into the bed for friction. She wouldn't need much stimulation and neither would he for that matter.

He tried to set a slow pace, to eek out the pleasure but as he slid his tongue inside her he felt her muscles starting to convulse as she cried out with pleasure. Hearing her call out his name in that moment had him worrying that he might actually come without ever entering her and he had to start reciting the periodic table in Arabic in his mind to distract himself.

When she was finished he sat up, wiping a hand across his mouth and he couldn't help the smug smile that spread over his face at just how well fucked she already looked. She saw him looking and just stretched her arms above her head as she moaned once more.

'Mmm...that was...wow.'

He moved to cover her body but she placed a single hand on his chest and pushed him away lightly, filling him with a vague confusion. Did she not want him now?

'Uh uh..on your back Mr Holmes. I do believe you mentioned something about me riding you.'

He grinned in relief and quickly lay down next to her and within a few seconds she was sat astride him with her hands on his chest. His cock was rubbing against her centre but she seemed in no rush to fuck him. Instead she leant over him and kissed him, no doubt tasting herself, not that it seemed to bother her. Her hips rocked against him lightly as she used him to stimulate herself once more. She seemed more confident than she had earlier and he was glad. He didn't want her ever to be in any doubt again about how he felt. He wondered at how it had taken him this long to realise his feelings for her and act on them but there was no going back now.

As she broke away from the kiss she looked at him for a moment and he could almost see wonder in her eyes and he brought his hand up to cup her face with his thumb sliding over her cheekbone. She closed her eyes and leant into it before sitting up a little more. The pressure on his cock made his hips buck up involuntarily.

'Are you sure?'

Her words were barely a whisper but he still caught them and he nodded his head. 'Yes, I've never been more sure. I want this...I want you Molly.'

She gave him a small smile but then she leant up on her knees and took hold of him, positioning him at her entrance and he could feel the heat of her enveloping the tip of his cock and he groaned, pressing up into her; his hands moving to her hips as he encouraged her to slide down onto him and he couldn't help but close his eyes and relish the perfect feel of her.

MHMHMHMHMHMHMHMHMHMHMH

Molly watched Sherlock's face as she slowly impaled herself onto him. He'd initially tried to hold her gaze but as he entered her his head pressed back into the pillow and his eyes closed even as his mouth opened in a silent moan. She couldn't ever remember him looking more devastatingly good looking as he did in that moment and if they never had sex again that image of him would forever be her most precious memory.

They seemed to come together like two halves of the same puzzle. He filled her in a way no man before him ever had and as she reached the limits of their bodies she let out a satisfied sigh. She could already feel her overly sensitised body reacting to him; his cock was pulsing inside her setting off a chain reaction that had her rolling her hips wanting to feel more.

She leant over him so her clit rubbed against his pubic bone and his hands moved to cover her backside pulling her onto him even harder. She knew instinctively that neither of them would last for long but that was fine...her whole body was focused in on one target and that was achieving a second orgasm and taking Sherlock with her when she did.

He moved one hand and brought it to her right breast before lifting his head so he could take it into his mouth and that added to his cock had her crying out his name as her climax started to wash over her. He bit down on her nipple at the perfect moment and her mind went into free fall as she gave into an orgasm which seemed to last longer than any she had previously enjoyed. Her movements sped up in time with his and she was vaguely conscious of him releasing her breast and crying out as he came himself; his hips pushing her almost off the mattress with the force of his final thrust.

She sagged onto his chest as she tried to catch her breath and she could feel his hands moving over her back before holding her close and the intimacy of that moment, the emotional reality of what they had just done threatened to overwhelm her. It was quite simply the best moment of her life so far and she didn't want it to end. But end it must and after a few moments she slid off him and made her excuses before making her way to the bathroom to clean up.

As she washed up she looked in the mirror and it felt as though the Molly looking back at her wasn't one she recognised. She smiled at herself and then bit her lip and the enormity of what had just happened hit her all over again...she had just had sex with Sherlock Holmes! And she wanted to do it again and again and again. The question was...would he?

There was nothing else for it but to front him out and find out exactly what this was but she had to admit that walking back into his bedroom butt naked was far harder than leaving it had been. She even wondered if he would still be in there or if he would have fled but when she pushed open the door he was still there...lying half covered by a sheet with one leg fully exposed. She couldn't help but frown though at the fact that he was smoking, flicking the ash into an old coffee cup on his bedside cabinet.

'Want one?'

He indicated to the packet sat by the cup but she shook her head not quite knowing what she should do next. Vaguely she looked around on the floor trying to spot her clothes.

'Oh no...you're not leaving me Molly...not now. I'm not sure I ever want you to leave my bed again.'

He patted the sheets at the side of him and she crawled over him so she could lie down. 'I wasn't sure how you'd feel...I mean some guys change their mind after...'

'Well I'm not some guy am I Molly?' He inhaled more smoke and she watched him blow it out in a long stream and she had to admit that he looked sexy as hell. Smoking might be bad for him but he looked damn hot doing it.

He saw her watching him and smiled before wrapping his arm around her shoulder and pulling her to him so she could rest her head on his shoulder. She let her leg rest on his and her hand moved to his stomach; her fingers tracing over some old scars.

'What is this Sherlock...I mean really? If it's just sex then tell me.'

She saw him frown before dimping out the cigarette in the cup then he rolled slightly so they were facing each other more and his hand came up to her face, pushing some loose strands of hair over her ear.

'No Molly this isn't just sex. I meant what I said...not just earlier but weeks ago in that phone call. I knew it at the time but I just couldn't process it then; there was so much going on with my family...with John...this place. I thought what I needed was some quiet...some time to think but all I really needed was you Molly. You're all I've ever really needed and I'm sorry I made you wait so long for me.'

Molly could feel her emotions swelling inside her at his every admission and when he finished talking all she could do was pull him to her for another kiss, tasting the cigarette and simply not caring. She had loved him for so long and had given up hope of it ever being returned but all that mattered now was that they were together...finally.

Even as they kissed she could feel her body responding to him as he moved over her. When his lips left hers they moved to her neck as his hands moved over her body.

'I don't want quiet anymore Molly. I want to hear you calling my name...I want to make you scream...I want us to keep the neighbours awake all night. Are you with me?'

Molly giggled in response. 'Always, Sherlock, always.'

 **Tadaaa...and there you go. A bit of smutty fluff to distract you from life. I hope you liked it, let me know xxx**


End file.
